


Scottish Castles

by pauraque



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Smallville
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-26
Updated: 2005-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-27 10:02:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauraque/pseuds/pauraque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lex met Argus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scottish Castles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hannelore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannelore/gifts).



"You truly had this place shipped stone by stone from Scotland, did you?" Argus Filch asked, gazing up at the bookshelves.

"Well, my father did, yeah." Again, Lex shook out the ink-blotched resume, trying to keep it flat — strange soft paper it was written on, curled at the edges. "I guess it's obvious why you're applying for the position, given your previous work experience... Why did you leave your last employer?"

Filch had been running his finger tentatively along the gauntlet of the suit of armor that stood in the corner, and turned in surprise. "Pardon?"

"Your application says you held your last job in the UK for thirty years. What made you suddenly pull up roots? Move to Kansas, of all places."

Filch's gaze slipped away and to the open window, the overcast sky. His brows knit wistfully; he drew a long, wheezing breath. "Nothing there for me anymore. P'raps there never was."

Lex's eyes narrowed, and he fixed the man with an appraising look. He'd had a rough life, to be sure, shabby and weather-beaten even after cleaning up for an interview. But there was something in that hard, jaundiced face that read to Lex like... pride. Loyalty.

"Do you think this is a job you can do?"

Filch gave a lopsided smirk. "Not to be smart, Mister Luthor, but I've minded castles a fair sight bigger than this. And with worse things in 'em, I daresay."

Lex smiled. "I believe it. Could you wait here a minute?" he said, standing up to go. "There's some paperwork I'll need you to fill out—" He turned, looked at the man over his shoulder. "Assuming you still want the job?"

Filch's yellowed eyes widened — looked like he hadn't had a happy surprise in a long time. "Yes— yes, of course, sir!"

"Good," Lex said with a grin. "Hang on, I'll be right back."

As the door clicked shut, Argus felt like kicking up his heels (not that he'd been able to do that in a decade or two, mind). He paced the room, peering again at the odd knickknacks, the portraits, the suit of armor, none of which moved or talked or bit or did anything magical at all, no matter how he prodded them. It was terribly like home — just lacking all the things that made home hurt.

On the desk, something caught Argus's eye. A small black box with a decorated lid. He edged towards it, craning his neck. Oh, he knew he shouldn't, but something about this box just made it beg to be snooped in. And, well, he didn't work for this Mr. Luthor yet.

He nudged the lid open with his thumb, just a tad, enough to see the emerald necklace glittering within. On second glance, no, not emerald — and not glittering either, but glowing. Something prickled at his palms, like the air after lightning. Or after a curse.

He let the box fall shut when he heard Mr. Luthor's footfalls in the corridor, and was well away from the desk by the time the door opened. Nonetheless, Mr. Luthor had a sort of hawkish look in his eye as he showed Argus where to sign on the crisp white printed forms. Almost as though he knew.

Perhaps this place was even more like home than Argus had thought.


End file.
